


You Feel the Real Me

by pariahsdream



Category: Grease 2 (1982)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Falling In Love, Female-Centric, Fic Exchange, Getting to Know Each Other, POV Female Character, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahsdream/pseuds/pariahsdream
Summary: "Are you crazy? I got two for the price of one."How did Stephanie really feel about Michael? Why did she come to view him as just as worthy as her 'Cool Rider'?For Yuletide 2017.





	You Feel the Real Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/gifts).



> Author’s Notes: For Yuletide 2017. When I spied “Grease 2” on the list of available fandoms I was surprised and amused. I genuinely didn’t think anyone would remember the movie, much less ask for fic of it. I have fond childhood memories of watching Grease 2 on VHS and I hope I did your memories justice, anr. 
> 
> This is sort of like a combination of a character study and a between-the-scenes of the movie fic.

Stephanie Zinone knew from the first time she held a wrench in her tiny hands that she wasn’t ever going to be like those sweet, well-behaved girls. Maybe if it hadn’t just been her and her dad for so long. Maybe if she hadn’t grown up in a garage with all her dad’s mechanics, standing on step stools to watch them work, learning more about engines and carburetors than she ever learned about playing house and baby dolls. There were a lot of maybes that could have turned Stephanie into a more traditional girl but they didn’t happen so why fight who she was meant to be? By the time she met Betty Rizzo, tough-talking, drinking, smoking, steel-eyed Betty Rizzo, when Stephanie was thirteen, that had only put the final nail in that coffin. 

From there on, there was nothing else she wanted more in the world than to be a Pink Lady herself. Rizzo had taught her everything she needed to know about how to look cool and be cool- how to walk with a sashay like Ava Gardner and paint her lips red like blood and rat her hair to the sky, how to smoke, how to talk tough and even be tough if necessary. She taught her about boys and what kinds to stay away from (Balmudo wasn’t like the T-Birds, she warned her. Guys like him liked to hurt girls, that’s what got them off). 

There was no one in the world that Steph looked up to more. She confided to her once, smoking outside on the fender of Rizzo’s car, that she sometimes hated that the only way to get a cycle between her legs was to get a guy there first. Rizzo had laughed that rough, too-worldly laugh of hers and let smoke curl out from her harlot red lips. 

_‘That’s true. We can be smarter’em, stronger and better but they make the rules. Fact of life, kid.’_ She’d stubbed out her cigarette and Steph tried not to be disappointed at the truth in her words. There were worst things in the world than being a biker’s old lady.

So she looked at her options and well, Johnny Nogerelli seemed the best of the lot. She loved what he represented- the leather jacket, the thick dark hair, the motorcycle, god she’d loved that thing probably more than Johnny did (actually she might have given how many times he’d brought it over to the garage to have it looked at by her, not that he’d ever admit she knew more about the inner workings of its engine than he did). There were times Stephanie wasn’t sure if she was dating Johnny because of him or it, really. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. It mattered that she look right and act like a Pink Lady, which meant dating a T-Bird. Those were the rules. Her choices were boxed in until they fit what someone else thought was best, until she was someone that fit a certain role. 

For a long time, it was too easy to not think about that sort of thing and just enjoy the sense of power and awe she had when she was named the head of the Pink Ladies. People knew not to mess with them, knew that the Pink Ladies were untouchable and that Steph herself was the most untouchable of all. It wasn’t the same kind of power that a T-Bird had but there wasn’t a chance she was going to have that anyway. So she swallowed down any restlessness, any thought of wondering what it would be like not to be someone’s chick, to be her own person without a guy trying to make her follow his rules. It worked, for a while anyway.

It came to a head the summer before senior year. She made it almost two years with Johnny but she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t listen to Johnny puff up his own ego or coddle him herself. Maybe she’d read too many magazine pieces about beatniks in her dad’s garage, waiting on people to ring for gas or maps. Maybe she’d seen too many things on the tv about the USSR, commies and all the ways the world was going to hell in a handbasket. Steph didn’t think of herself as a deep thinker or anything but stuff still lingered there, like scum on a pond. It just reminded her that the choice that had been made for her, to belong to someone, to belong to Johnny, seemed dumber and dumber by the day.

At least she had her girls, once they got over the shock of finding out about the break up. Paulette was supportive even beyond the obvious thing she had for Johnny. She was sweet under that ditzy persona she put on and she was loyal above everything else. 

“You sure?” She asked. “No foolin’.”

The girls surrounded her before they headed into school for the first day, attention steady but without judgment. She nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

And that was it. Sure, Rhonda thought she was nuts not to want a boyfriend and Sharon reminded her of the code, but they didn’t take it further than that. Steph was grateful for their support. She had been certain her senior year was going to be a breeze from that point on. And then she met Michael Carrington.

She blamed Johnny for everything but most especially the kiss in the bowling alley. She had just wanted to demonstrate that she didn’t need anyone’s permission to do what she wanted when she wanted to. Stephanie truly would have kissed literally any guy that had walked through the door, even Eugene. Granted, it hadn’t exactly been a hardship when it turned out to be Michael. Stephanie had noticed how handsome Michael was when she ran across him that first day of school. Just because she was a Pink Lady didn’t mean she was dead. Looking but not touching went both ways after all. (Mostly.)

She hadn’t meant anything by it and it annoyed her that Michael didn’t get it. She felt his eyes on her a lot (not in an uncomfortable way that some guys did, but steady and thoughtful almost). She also noticed that Frenchy had taken him under her wing. 

“What’s up with English?” Stephanie asked the older girl, bored as she re-applied her mascara one day in the girls’ bathroom. “He a boyfriend?” she teased, half-hoping it to be the case and half not, though not sure why exactly. Maybe she did miss makin’ out more than she wanted to admit.

Frenchy let out a startled, sweet laugh however and looked away from her reflection. “Boyfriend? Michael? Oh no! He likes-” She stopped herself with a glance at Stephanie and then went on, waving her hand with a powder puff still in it. “He’s a cousin of a friend. Did you ever meet Sandy? Sandy Olsson?”

Steph hadn’t but everyone knew the story about Sandy and Danny, what they did to be together (and the first to break the code, her mind added). She’d always liked that Danny manned up at the end and was willing to change himself to win over Sandy, even when it turned out it wasn’t necessary. “What’s he doing all the way over here?”

“I couldn’t say. You could ask him though,” She encouraged, putting away her compact and stepping in closer. “He’s a nice boy, you know, he could use more friends.”

Steph smirked. “Nice boys aren’t really my thing, Frenchy.” Still, if Frenchy thought he was an alright guy, that was a pretty good endorsement. “So if he said anything about the bowling alley-”

“Bowling alley? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied in a nonchalant tone that wasn’t foolin’ anyone. She shifted her weight before blurting out, “I did warn him. About the code.”

Steph blinked. Did that mean Michael had asked about it or had Frenchy warned him because she was worried? “Oh? What did he say?”

“He asked, how do you become a T-Bird,” she admitted, holding the bathroom door open for her.

Stephanie let out a surprised laugh as she stepped out and into the hallway. Who would’ve thought there was a spine under those polite manners and well starched chinos?

That might have surprised her then but it didn’t mean she thought about Michael or his opinion of her. Sharon had gotten a ‘bright idea’ to rope them all into the talent show and anyone else that would listen to her mile-a-minute spiel, including Louis and Davey. Steph relented only on the fact that Sharon reminded them that it was their last year together and they wouldn’t get many more opportunities to do stuff together.

That didn’t mean that she was thrilled to find Michael there at the piano for tryouts and utterly clueless to her attempts to gently let him down. When she popped off that snappy comment about a “Cool Rider”, it was just a fantasy. Johnny was supposed to be that but he turned out to be anything but. She wanted danger and thrills but she wanted to trust her mystery man too. To know that whatever else, he could be gentle with her and listen to everything in her heart that she didn’t say outloud. Stephanie knew it wasn’t likely which was probably why she snapped at Michael. It wasn’t really his fault, it just sucked that Steph was stuck with choices that didn’t really feel like choices at all.

It might’ve been a little bit of guilt, knowing how much Frenchy liked Michael, but Steph found that she couldn’t stop noticing him after the try-outs. He was in more of her classes than she realized, three at least, and she kept glancing at him from time to time. He sometimes met her eyes then, holding her gaze and she liked that, especially after shooting him down like she had. She also liked that while he clearly still liked her, he didn’t pester her like she expected him to. Steph didn’t have time to deal with his crush when she had other, more important things on her plate but he kept just.... being there, like when she stopped by Chem 101 to see if Frenchy wanted to ditch and get some burgers.

“Aw, I’d love to Steph, but you know I can’t mess this up,” Frenchy replied, sincerely apologetic. She glanced at Michael standing beside her. Oddly enough he had engine grease under his fingernails.

“Hello Stephanie,” he greeted quietly, eyes fixed on her face even as Steph choose not to notice. 

“Hey,” she greeted, relenting when Frenchy gave her a look. “How’s things? Going any better?”

“Oh you know,” he replied, shrugging and crossing his arms over his chest- not wearing a tie this time but a simple button-up instead that showed off the lean muscles of his arms. “Learning the ropes from the best,” he winked at Frenchy and she giggled like they were sharing a private joke. “Getting better at figuring things out here.”

Hopping up on the countertop, Steph picked up one of Frenchy’s containers to examine but she did give Michael half her attention. She could feel the heat of his body and smell his cologne on her left (she definitely missed makin’ out). “How did you even end up at Rydell anyway?” she asked.

Michael seemed pleasantly surprised by the interest. “My parents thought America might give me more opportunities than our hometown- Belper. It’s mainly a manufacturing town up north,” He admitted, cocking his head with a smile. “My mum in particular thought I’d be ‘wasted’ if I took up in the family business.”

Steph snorted. “I hear ya. My dad owns a garage in town. Not exactly exciting,” she mused. “What about your dad? What did he do?”

Michael glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes- at her face, actually. Not her boobs or her legs or butt. He was focused on her, which was a little unnerving. “He was a master mechanic actually, used to do the repair work on the machines at the local factories,” he replied, dropping his gaze like he could tell he was making her uncomfortable.

Reaching out without thought, she picked up his hand and turned it over to examine his dirty nails with amusement. “So does this engine grease mean you’re being bad and not doing what ‘mum’ wants you to?” Steph teased, finding them leaned in close together.

“Actually-”

“There you are! Is Frenchy coming or not?” Sharon demanded as she whirled into the room, a flurry of papers and cigarette smoke. She plucked at Steph’s free arm, dragging her away from Michael without letting him or Steph get a word in edgewise.

Even though she wanted to try to be nicer to Michael, the fact of the matter was, he didn’t really linger on her mind when he wasn’t around. She only really paid attention to him in class, particularly in biology. She had half expected his ears to go pink when they moved onto the unit about sexual reproduction. He’d met her eyes fearlessly though and she couldn’t help but give him a smirk. _'Not bad, English.'_

One thing she did pick up on was the fact that Frenchy must’ve taught him how to dress less like a nerd. He looked good in his jeans and tight shirts, as plenty of girls had noticed. Let them have at him, she thought. And that was pretty much all she really thought about Michael for a long time, but most especially when she got a real life encounter with the man of her dreams.

After her second encounter with her Rider, Steph’s concentration was completely shot. Nothing could keep her focus- which was not good for her school work (or graduation goals). She had tried to talk to the girls but they weren’t a lot of help. Sure, they agreed that he was amazing and mysterious but didn’t seem to understand why her world was thrown off balance so badly. She was almost glad that Michael had slid back into her life to offer to tutor her, just so she could try to get her mind off of it.

It hadn’t worked, though she was sort of surprised that he was interested in trying to help her with her feelings. It was good to get some of it off her chest, and it gave her the opportunity to focus on her paper afterwards. Once they plowed through it enough, they paused to plow through their newly arrived burgers.

“You know,” Michael pointed out, trying to make the best of the silence. “There’s a movie out that sort of falls in line with your essay here.”

Stephanie’s brows knit together as she finished swallowing her bite of hamburger. “Huh?”

He chuckled softly and reached out to brush ketchup from her lip, lingering for a long moment. “West Side Story. It’s actually a take on Romeo and Juliet.”

She sat back and ignored the way her stomach was still fluttering from his touch. “Really? Huh.”

“You know, if you need the extra credit, I’m sure Miss Mason would probably give it to you for going to see it and maybe writing a little something afterwards,” he continued on. 

Steph laughed and shook her head. “Two hours of my life wasted watching guys in tights stab each other with fake swords? Pass.”

Michael leaned in and his hand ended up brushing hers on top of the table. “Actually they didn’t make it that way. It’s set in modern times instead, two rival gangs instead of families in Italy.”

“Is that so? So what about Juliet? If her dad isn’t around to try to make her marry some guy she doesn’t want to, how does it go down?” She asked, despite herself as she reached for her coke. She didn’t immediately move her other hand out from under his either. 

“I don’t know,” he grinned, eyes twinkling at her. “Is that how you see it, then? That Juliet was trying to escape from an arranged marriage. What about love?”

Steph shrugged, withdrawing her hand from his and began picking at the leftover fries on her plate. “I guess. I don’t know, I’m not good at this literary stuff but it just seems to me that she wasn’t being given a choice in anything up until she met Romeo, you know? It’s like, ok the guy kinda goes on a lot but at least she picks him herself, without anyone else telling her what to do or how she should feel. And if they didn’t have all this stupid rules about not dating rivals, then who knows how it would’ve ended.”

“Funny that,” Michael replied, the warm look on his face slowly dropping off as he placed money on the table for their bill plus a tip. “How rules and codes can get in the way of two people just trying to be themselves.”

Steph sighed and followed him out of the booth. Things had been going pretty well too. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Oh? Explain it to me,” Michael turned to look at her, jaw tense. He relented after a moment and goes softer. “I just... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re clearly not looking to be with a T-Bird.”

She was a little surprised at him pointing out something she hadn’t thought about consciously before that moment. She might’ve dumped Johnny but she was still a T-Bird chick, still supposed to belong to one of them. The fact that Goose and Louis were already taken care of made it easier and Davey was too shy (and too intimidated by Johnny) to make a move on her. “I- Look. You’re a nice guy, Michael. I like you, I really do but- you’re just....”

Steph had no clue how she was going to try to explain it, even as she pointed out that he was dateable, but she never got the chance. Not with Johnny showing up with Goose and wrecking her date. Because it _had_ been a date. Everyone knew it but her. She really had been pushing the boundaries of her choices and having Johnny give her that ultimatum only made her feel more confused than before. 

The rest of the day she spent with her thoughts stuck on Michael almost as much as her Rider. She felt guilty for whatever was happening between them. It couldn’t happen. She didn’t even want it to happen! 

Right? 

She was about to see her Rider again, after the talent show, to be with him and have that thrill warm her from her belly out, like something out of some trashy book. It had felt like freedom to ride around the back roads with him, to feel his solid body warm beneath her fingers. That was better than having some normal, boring guy decide to be cheeky and even maybe interesting every once in awhile. 

But Michael was real. He wasn’t some guy she didn’t know, not really. He was right there in front of her, talking to her and treating her like he cared about her. Hell, he offered to help her with her essay and actually _did_. Not just use it as a transparent attempt to make a move. 

He never made a move. There, that bugged her, didn’t it? He didn’t go after what he wanted, not like her Rider did. Her Rider came back for her, twice even. He risked danger to be with her. Michael wouldn’t even look at the T-Birds most of the time. She sure as hell didn’t want a guy that wouldn’t stand up for himself or for her. Who was afraid of going after what he wanted. 

She wasn’t afraid. She knew what she wanted. She was going to go to the talent show, was going to stand in front of the entrance and wait for him. For her Rider. 

God, she could use a cigarette.

****

If Steph thought that just feeling guilty and anxious was going to be the worst of it, she was dead wrong.

All this stupidity, all this notion that she was someone’s property and she’d lost a chance to be with someone who might’ve been the love of her life. How would she ever know? Her Rider was dead and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. She didn’t care about anything now, not the talent showing, not winning it or even Michael trying to get through the crush to speak to her.

Her eyes glazed over his bruised and rumped form without really seeing it and then she was being pulled away from him by Paulette and Sharon. 

Everything that happened after that horrible night felt like a hazy dream, one she’d have to wake up from some time. Even finding out that her Rider was alive paled in comparison to the revelation that he was Michael and Michael was him. They were everything that she wanted (and didn’t even know she wanted until that moment) put together, standing in front of her.

Hours after the luau (and retroactively grateful that the Ladies forced her to show up for it), Steph still couldn’t get enough of looking up at Michael’s face. 

“What?” he asked her, amusement laced in his voice, though his eyes were tender.

“I just can’t get over it. You.”

“Me? I still can’t believe you choose me in the end,” he admitted, brushing her hair away from her cheek, stroking the skin there like she was precious. He still had engine grease under his fingernails. She loved that contradiction in him- the roots he had in working with his hands and yet he was still so smart and sensitive. And every part of him was hers now.

“I did,” Stephanie agreed, feeling incredibly certain ( _certainest_ ). “It wasn’t something forced on me or some rule. Even if Johnny hadn’t given you the jacket, I still would’ve chosen you. You are everything I want and need, Michael Carrington.”

**Author's Note:**

> Random note time~ When Michael claims to be from Belpher, this is actually the town that his actor, Maxwell Caulfield came from (at least according to Wikipedia).


End file.
